


Each dying moment I think to you (mormor March challenge!)

by MajorityRim



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Brain Damage, Car Accident, Drug Use, M/M, doomed domestic bliss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:40:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29777679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorityRim/pseuds/MajorityRim
Summary: A series of one-shots for each day of March, each to a different prompt. TW and CW will be at the beginning of each fic as a heads-up for what to expect! Here there be monsters
Relationships: Sebastian Moran & Jim Moriarty, Sebastian Moran/James Moriarty, Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	1. "That doesn't seem healthy"

**Author's Note:**

> CW for Brain injury/damage, character death

Sebastian isn’t sure when the symptoms really start. There’s a lot that he pushes to the back of his mind so that he can keep working; it’s not a healthy way to deal with things, but it’s an effective one. He ignores the problem until it goes away and usually that was good enough. Because of that, he ignores the headaches that build-up ignores the fatigue and sluggishness he feels occasionally. They’re all part of the job. Of course, he feels tired, he’s been working sixteen hours straight, of course, he has a headache, as much as he loves Jim, there’s no denying the man is a constant point of stress. 

Perhaps if he were in a different line of work Sebastian would have noticed sooner. But he doesn’t, and so that symptoms go unchecked until one day he doesn’t have the luxury of ignoring them anymore. 

He’s sat with Jim in his office while the man works away at his computer. It’s Sebastian’s day off, but he likes to come in anyway, likes to keep an eye on Jim, make sure he’s eating and taking regular breaks. It’s fairly dim in Jim’s office, but even so, the light hurts Sebastian’s eyes. He frowns, head in his hands as he tries to fight off what he assumes must be a migraine coming on. Though he doesn’t get them himself, Jim has had enough in his life for Sebastian to know what onset looks like. 

“I think I’m getting a migraine,” he tells Jim. Jim stops his typing, turns around and looks at him with a confused expression. 

“Have you been drinking?” He asks.

“No?” 

“I’m calling a doctor then,” Sebastian doesn’t quite process what Jim has said, and instead goes back to trying to hide from the light currently attacking him. At least it’s happening on his day off, he would be in a lot more trouble if he’d got a migraine halfway through a hit. 

Jim’s doctor arrives in no time flat. She examines Sebastian carefully, asking him a series of questions that he really doesn’t want to answer. Jim looks at him over her shoulder though, and Sebastian knows he has to answer them all. In the end, she prescribes him some rest and tells him he’ll need to come into her practice for a few more tests. Jim gives him a couple of more days off on the doctor's suggestion too which Sebastian finds odd. Usually, Jim is happy to let him work through any sort of injury. His work is more important than sick leave, especially when Sebastian can just work on through nine times out of ten. 

He can’t work through this one though. Not this time. 

Sebastian does go for more tests, feeling more level headed when he arrives for them. He catches on pretty quick that they think there’s something wrong with his head. He asks the doctor, who tells him with a cool, professional tone that she suspects he might have some amount of brain damage caused by his job. She asks him again about his headaches, about other symptoms too, running through a checklist of symptoms that build dread in Sebastian every time he answers yes to one. Yes he’s had some fatigue, yes his temper has been a little worse than usual, yes he’s had some awful headaches. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if the tests come back positive. How is he supposed to look after Jim? 

“Will it get worse?” He asks the doctor.

“It’s likely,” she tells him, “it would help if you stopped working for Moriarty.” Sebastian already knows that’s not an option. Not just because people don’t just get to quit working for Jim, but because he’d never leave the man. The look on the doctors face suggests that she knows he won’t either. 

“Can I get better?” He asks hopefully. 

“Recovery isn’t impossible,” the doctor offers, “your condition is mild right now, with the right program you could retain most of your current state. Though that would require some adjustments to your lifestyle. You’re a very fit man, healthy and in good condition for your age, that will help.” 

“And if I don’t quit my job?” He knows what she’s implying when she says ‘right program’ 

“If you continue your current occupation you risk another head injury which could exacerbate your condition.” 

“I need to protect Jim, it’s my job. Protect Moriarty, no matter the cost.” Sebastian tells her. 

“That doesn’t sound health,” She hums, unimpressed. “That seems like a great way to end up in the ground faster.” 

“Right.” She’s right, but it doesn’t mean Sebastian wants to hear that.

Sebastian leaves the doctors conflicted. He decides not to tell Jim about the results. He’s already got enough on his plate, and part of Sebastian is worried about how Jim might react. He’s shot men for less. 

It doesn’t matter that Sebastian doesn’t tell Jim however, because he still finds out. So much for patient-doctor confidentiality. 

“You have brain damage,” Jim says over dinner. They’re curled up on the couch eating pizza because Sebastian was too tired to cook anything. 

“She told you then,” Sebastian replies. Jim hums and nods, munching on a piece of pizza. 

“You didn’t tell me.” 

“I didn’t want to worry you.” 

“Well consider me worried,” Jim doesn’t sound it in the slightest, but Sebastian knows he wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true. They fall into silence, both watching the movie they’d put on, neither one wanting to talk about just what it means. Sebastian certainly doesn’t want to die, and the way Jim holds him so tight he doubts that the other man wants to lose him just yet either. 

“I’ll get in contact with a specialist,” Jim says finally, “consider it health insurance.” 

“Didn’t think I got that,” Sebastian laughs. 

“You don’t,” Jim’s just trying to keep him alive. Sebastian kisses him on the top of his head and they both turn back to their movie. 

Even with the specialist though, Sebastian’s condition keeps getting worse. 

Sebastian eventually has to stop working. Though he tries to keep going, it’s obvious that he can’t. Too many years of fighting both for Jim and in the army have finally taken their toll. Most days, he ends up in the living room, quite and trapped between thoughts as he tries to piece together what he’s supposed to be doing. Jim looks after him the best he can. He gets frustrated and raises his voice, but always comes back and apologises to Sebastian, works hard to fix what he’s broken, and it lets Sebastian know that the man still loves him. 

And then one day, Jim hires Sebastian a carer. Sebastian knows that it must mean something bad, but he struggles to put the pieces together. It feels like a puzzle where all the pieces keep moving any time he reaches out for one. The carer is around for a week straight as Jim makes sure they’re the right fit, testing them at every opportunity, putting them under more stress than any one person should. But they remain calm, always there to help Sebastian out, laughing off Jim’s antics. 

“I feel like I’m part of some reality TV show with hidden cameras half the time,” They tell Sebastian as they help him through his morning routine, “Is your boyfriend always so… stressed out?” 

“He is,” Sebastian nods, “But he likes it that way.”

“Well I’m glad that you have somebody who loves you enough to set elaborate schemes to test me out,” they laugh, “do you think because he’s stopped with them it means I’ve passed?” 

It does. Though Sebastian wishes every day that they hadn’t passed and Jim had been forced to keep looking. 

He sees it on the news. Sherlock Holmes has plummeted to his death. Sebastian fumbles with his phone as he tries to call Jim. 

He tries again. 

And again.

And again. 

Jim never comes home. Some days Sebastian can’t remember or work out why.


	2. "call it plan B, hell, call it plan Z, but I'm packing the good drugs."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for drug use, addiction, and implied character death

They’ve had a rough time recently. At every turn, there seems to be some roadblock that pushes Jim’s work back, and in more and more meetings, Sebastian has to intervene when pushy clients decide they’re suddenly in charge. Jim’s been stabbed four times in the last three months, and Sebastian was almost hospitalised in a bike accident. Jim’s been cursing all sorts of creatures Sebastian can’t really say he believes in, but that superstitious Irish heritage gives Jim an outlet that isn’t just murdering anybody who so much as looks at him wrong so he doesn’t bring up that fact that pixies can’t actually be behind their spat of bad luck. 

Sebastian isn’t worried about the bad luck though. Bad luck will pass, bad luck is just circumstance out of their control. Jim will work out how to fix it like he always does and they’ll be back at the top of the food chain in no time. What does worry Sebastian is the fact that he’s fairly sure Jim has started using prescription drugs to combat all the stress he’s under. 

Jim received a prescription for Endone the first time he was stabbed. He’d been hesitant to take it, though wouldn’t give a decent reason as to why. Sebastian had had to bribe him with all sorts of things to get him to finally take something. Jim couldn’t sleep with the pain in his shoulder, and Sebastian didn’t often sleep if Jim didn’t. If Jim had just told Sebastian he had a problem with addiction, Sebastian wouldn’t have ever pressed the matter, he would have found a better way to help the man through it. 

Jim’s moved onto opioids now, at least Sebastian is fairly sure he has. The problem with trying to keep tabs on somebody like Jim is that if Jim doesn’t want something known, nobody will ever know about it. 

Sebastian wonders if that’s why he’s only somewhat sure of what’s going on. Jim doesn’t want to stop, but he doesn’t want to keep going on them either. He’s reaching out for help the only way that he knows how. 

Jim would never openly admit to any sort of weakness, it’s likely why he didn’t tell Sebastian in the first place. But he’s a clever man who likes to leave clues littered about in all of his work in the hopes that somebody might be clever enough to notice and give him a real run for his money. It’s not that much of a stretch to think that he’d do the same with a personal matter. Sebastian watches him carefully, sat at his desk as he works away, and trues to find a way to bring it up. 

It ends up being a meeting that pushes Sebastian to confront Jim. 

They escape in a hailstorm of bullets, another bout of bad luck as Sebastian drags Jim from the building, glad that he’d made the man wear a bulletproof vest. They take refuge behind an old shed as Sebastian tries to work out the best exit plan, Jim laughing beside him, delighted in a way that worries the other man. 

“You’re awfully chipper considering we’re being shot at.” Sebastian grunts. 

“Of course we’re being shot at. Our luck is so bad at that moment that there’s no other way the meeting could have gone. Do you really think I would have put on the stupid vest if I thought I wasn’t going to be shot at?” Sebastian looks at Jim and frowns. His eyes are blown wide, lips parted slightly and he doesn’t seem to fully understand the danger they’re in. 

“You’re high.” He says plainly. 

“Shh, I’m thinking of a way to fix this.” Jim deflects. “You just keep on shooting.” Sebastian isn’t exactly in a position to argue, and so he does as he’s told. He holds off their attackers until Jim grabs him suddenly by the arm, pushing his shot wildly off course. 

“Okay, I’ve worked it out,” Jim says excitedly. “If we can get to the car-” 

“Jim, the car is full of holes.” Sebastian cuts him off. Jim clicks his tongue and nods. 

“Right then. Plan B-” 

“I figured the last one was plan B,” Sebastian replies. He’s back to keeping their attackers away, but he’s quickly running out of bullets. With Jim high as a kite and very few shots left, he’s worried about what’ll come next for them. 

“Call it plan B, hell, call it plan Z, but I’m packing the good drugs, and we’re going to head for the tree line. If we get shot, we’ll just push the pain away with everybody's favourite little pill.” 

It barely makes sense, and Sebastian stares at Jim for several long seconds before he grabs the man’s hand and just runs. It isn’t like they have much of a choice anyway. 

Even through all his nonsense though, Sebastian knows that Jim’s nonsense is a cry for help. He can’t think on whatever he’s on, and obviously just wants to get higher. Sebastian won’t let him. He’ll protect Jim from everything, even himself. 

They get away by some miracle, find a hotel, and bunker down for the night. Before Jim has a chance to stop him, Sebastian empties the man's bags and throws all his pills into the sink. 

“What are you doing?” Jim yells as he catches Sebastian. Sebastian blocks the door to the bathroom, crossing his hands over his chest. 

“I’m helping you, Jim. It’s alright, there’s plenty of resources to help with addiction.”

“I’m not addicted, I just… dependent on them,” Jim protests. “There’s a difference.” 

“Yeah, and the difference is that you’ve got an addiction, Jim. How long does it go back?” Sebastian keeps to his spot at the door, blocking Jim’s access to the bathroom where the tablets are going soggy in the sink. 

“What makes you think I’ve had this problem before?” 

“The fact that you wouldn’t take them to begin with,” Sebastian says gently, “you knew it was a risk, didn’t you?” 

“You wouldn’t stop pushing me to take them.” Jim deflects. 

“Please don’t blame me for this Jim. If I had have known I would have helped you,” 

“I don’t need pity!” Jim snarls, “and I didn’t need you to interfere either.” 

“Then why did you make it so easy for me to work out that you were using?” Sebastian asks. Jim falls silent at that. He stares down at his feet as he tries to find some other excuse, but Sebastian and he both already know the answer to the question. Jim wants help, even if he won’t admit it. It’s hard for Jim to reach out, but Sebastian knows he can’t help the man until he does. 

“I want to be alone,” Jim says finally. 

“I’m rinsing out the sink before I go,” Sebastian tells him. Jim shrugs and then nods like he doesn’t care. Sebastian leaves his post to wash the sink of any pills leftover before walking out to place a kiss on top of Jim’s head. 

“Are you going to be alright if I leave? You can be honest, Jim, I want to help you here,” 

Jim offers him such a heartbreaking look that Sebastian almost cries himself. It’s so full of fear and desperation, but Jim’s stubbornness pulls the corners of his lips up into a smile. 

“I’ll be fine, Tiger. You go down to the bar and enjoy an afternoon off. We’ll talk about it in the morning, okay?” 

Against his better judgment, Sebastian agrees. He leaves Jim alone in that room to collect his thoughts. 

It’ll be hard, but they’ll get through it. Jim can fix anything, and with Sebastian by his side, he can even fix himself. 

And he does think that, believes it for a long while that he’s managed to help Jim. 

But when Jim doesn’t want you to know something, he hides it exceptionally well. 

Their bad luck lifts and things go back to normal, even if Jim becomes more distant over the following months, burying himself in his work. 

Perhaps it’s that Sebastian trusts Jim too much, but he never notices. Not until Jim can’t hide it anymore, and by then, it’s already too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've re-written this one a dozen times and it's still not quite where I want it to be. I hope you enjoyed it all the same!


	3. I don't need to be able to stand, I just need to be able to shoot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: car accident, character death

When Sebastian has his accident, there’s a moment where he thinks about what it will mean for his job. Most people would never think about it, stuck inside a crumpled car and not even sure if he’ll manage to see tomorrow. But Sebastian does. He thinks about Jim, about what the man is supposed to do without him. Rationally, Sebastian knows that he’ll be completely fine. Moriarty wouldn’t have gotten half as far as he has if he couldn’t take care of himself. Just because he makes Sebastian do everything for him doesn’t mean that Jim can’t actually do it for himself, he just doesn’t like to. Sebastian wonders how quickly the man will move on; Jim isn’t the sort of wallow in his sadness and he certainly isn’t the type to mourn. He’ll surely have a new live-in before the end of the month, perhaps even the end of the week. And Sebastian will be- where? 

Maybe because he’s faced death so many times Sebastian doesn’t even consider that he might die until that point. Until he tries to work out where he’d be if Jim no longer needed him. If he’s been so gravely injured that Jim Moriarty throws him out of the street. Sebastian thinks about the types of injuries that would still allow him to work. The way that the car has crumpled in on itself clues him in well enough to know that he’s not going to be able to just walk away from the accident. There’s a sharp pain in his shoulder as he hangs stuck in the car and his legs- 

-he can’t feel them. 

Sebastian’s chest seizes and all at once, he forgets how to breathe. He tries to look down- up to where his legs are stuck but all he can see is a twisted mound of metal crushed in around him almost like he’s in a highchair, pinned in and unable to escape. He tries to move his legs, tries to get even the smallest wiggle from them, but the more he tries the more and more Sebastian realises that not only can he not move them, but there’s no feeling at all below his waist. 

It’s alright. He needs to just breathe, he can work through this. 

His arms are still working which is a good sign, if he can just pull himself from the wreckage he’ll be able to flag down some help or call somebody else to come and collect him. He’ll need to pick somebody he can trust, and though he hates the idea of it, might even have to rely on an ambulance to come and get him. At least the paramedics won’t try and stab him while he’s down to try and climb the social ladder of London’s underground. 

It’ll be fine. He’ll get out, get the medical assistance he needs, and work it out from there. Jim will come and chastise him and evaluate if Sebastian’s still any good for his company, and Sebastian will prove that he’s still the second most dangerous man in London. Even if his legs aren’t working, which Sebastian really hopes is just a temporary thing, that they’ve been pinned too tight and he can’t feel them for that reason, that if he gets out they’ll regain feeling and he’ll be able to walk again. 

He can still work from a wheelchair, it’ll just be a little more tricky. Sebastian doesn’t need to be able to stand, he just needs to be able to shoot. There are plenty of amazing shooters out there who do it all from a wheelchair, people who can even do it blind, Sebastian will adapt and everything will be perfect- 

-The car lurches, as Sebastian’s head darts forward to look out the windscreen of the car, he’s faced with a cliff face, the car teetering dangerously over its edge. He stills, evens his breathing and focuses on what’s important right now. He can’t prove anything if he can’t even get out of the car. 

Very carefully, Sebastian pulls a knife from his jacket to cut himself free of the seatbelt. Thank Christ he was wearing that or he likely would have sailed straight through the glass and down into that valley below. He works himself out of the belt carefully, sure to brace himself so that he doesn’t suddenly fall. From there he tries to shift his chair even just an inch, but the mechanism is stuck fast, meaning that now Sebastian’s left himself hanging upside down, rather than be locked in with his seatbelt. 

He’ll work it out, he has to, Sebastian just needs to take it easy. 

His phone rings, ironically, the blue-tooth in his car is still working. The ring-tone he’s set for Jim blasts through his car as Sebastian debates picking it up or not. He decides to. He’d rather Jim know he was in an accident and send help, then try to save face. 

“Jim-” 

“Where the hell are you? You were supposed to be here for the meeting nearly twenty minutes ago!” Jim shouts through the loudspeaker on Sebastian’s phone.

“Jim wait-”

“Don’t 'Jim wait' me!” Jim continues. Obviously, he’s not having a great day. “What you should be saying is ‘Jim I’m just around the corner.” 

“Jim I’ve been-”

“If that’s an excuse Moran I’m going to cover you in birdseed and staple you to Big Ben!” Why doesn’t Jim ever shut up? Why can’t he just let Sebastian get one bloody word in? 

“Just shut up for a second will you?” He growls. “Jim I’ve been in a bloody accident and-” 

The car lurches.

“What was that?” Jim’s voice crackles on the other end of the line. “You’ve been what?” 

“An accident,” Sebastian says a little quicker, willing the car to stay where it is, to not fall any further. It’ll tip soon, and Sebastian can’t survive that kind of drop. 

“I can’t hear you,” Jim replies. “Speak louder will you?” 

“Accident,” Sebastian says desperately, “I’ve been in an accident. Jim, I’m not gonna hold out much longer you need to get somebody here now!” 

“Look, whatever excuse you’ve got, I can’t hear it. You can beg me to let you sleep in the bed tonight once you get here. Hurry up.” Jim hangs up the phone before Sebastian can shout for him not to. 

He doesn’t make it home, and it takes a week for anybody to find the wreckage.


	4. "I can sleep when I'm dead"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a day late, but here is the fourth instalment of Mormor Angst March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: character death

There is no denying that Jim Moriarty is a brilliant man. Even half-dead he could still run circles around Sebastian, but for as brilliant as he is, for every ounce of genius that is in that small little Irish body, there has to be equal parts stupidity too. Sebastian is sure that Jim thinks he’s immortal with the way that he ignores even the most basic of human needs. Jim pushes himself far beyond the limits that any sane person would. He barely eats, says it’s a distraction if it can’t be done with one hand. He doesn’t leave his office unless it’s for work, ever consumed by the next big thing, chasing that high that quietens his mind for even just an hour or two. 

And the bastard never sleeps. Christ Sebastian wishes he could get him to sleep. 

Instead, Sebastian has to wait for Jim to pass out at his desk, and even then it’s touch and go. It’s like diffusing a bomb, trying to lift Jim away from his desk and get him to the couch for a kip. If Jim wakes up it’s all over, he’ll push Sebastian off him and go get a coffee, force himself to stay awake just to prove a point. 

“I can sleep when I’m dead.” He tells Sebastian. It’s always the same phrase. “I can sleep when I’m dead.” 

Crime doesn’t sleep after all, so why would crime personified ever think to do as much? 

That’s not to say that Jim never sleeps. There are times when Sebastian can drag him away. He wraps protective arms around the man and stays as still as he can to let Jim rest. Long hours waiting in position for a hit help him keep perfectly still, relaxed and unmoving, sure not to jostle Jim as he would try not to jostle the gun. Jim sleeps fitfully, he always has, but Sebastian’s always there to brush hair from his face and reassure him that every thing's alright. 

An hour or so’s sleep and Jim is up again. He works in shifts like that until he deems himself fit to go, and then returns to long bouts without sleep. Sebastian isn’t sure at this point if it’s insomnia or if it’s something else, but he wishes he could help. 

It’s during one of these bouts that it happens.

Jim hasn’t slept for three days. He’s looking rough around the edges, and Sebastian’s sure that by the end of the day he’ll be asleep, but that doesn’t stop him from suggesting that Jim take a break before they meet with a client. 

“Oh stop it.” Jim pinches the bridge of his nose, coffee cup clutched in his other hand. “I can sleep when I’m dead.” 

“You could also sleep while you’re alive, Boss. It’s not hard to tell you need a break.” Sebastian responds. “Just an hour or two, then you’ll be back on your feet and we can keep going.

“You’re not my nanny, Sebastian, stop acting like one.” 

“It’s my job to keep you safe. The way I see it, you’d be safer if you slept for a bit.” 

“Well, then you’re fired,” Jim tells him. Sebastian snorts at that. 

“Then as your boyfriend, I’m telling you to get some fucking sleep.” 

“And as your boyfriend.” Jim says irritatedly, “I’m telling you to go fuck yourself.” 

He doesn’t end up sleeping, and they head into the meeting with Sebastian sure that Jim won’t make it through the whole thing without a temper tantrum. He keeps his hand close to his gun just in case, casually resting there so that the client doesn’t think he’d being threatened. Jim does have a tantrum, he starts to raise his voice, starts to shout and Sebastian’s ready to pull that trigger if it comes to it. 

And then something- something goes wrong. Jim goes quiet, he clutches his chest, mumbles something to Sebastian as he turns around to look at him, and collapses from where he’d been standing and yelling only moments before. 

Sebastian shoots everybody else in the room without a moment's hesitation, even those of them that are there with Jim. He kills them all, seven neat shots all hitting their mark before anybody has the chance to stop him. He runs the few short steps to Jim, drops himself hard onto his knees and tries to wake the man up. 

Jim has no pulse. 

Sebastian calls an ambulance and starts CPR. 

“Jim, Jim you bastard you get up!” He shouts. “Jim fucking wake up!” 

The irony isn’t lost on Sebastian as he thumps against Jim’s chest. He’s spent all this time trying to get Jim to sleep, and the second he does, Sebastian wants him awake again. 

Jim keeps sleeping though, he lays there as Sebastian tries desperately to wake him up. It doesn’t make sense, why isn’t he getting up? It’s some sick joke, Sebastian is sure. It’s payback for all the nagging he’s done over the years, all the harassing he’s tries to get Jim to just take a damn break. 

“I get it Jim okay? Now quit it. Just get up, will you? I can’t- you gotta get up!” 

The ambulance arrives, but Jim still doesn’t wake up. Sebastian has to be pulled off him. They let him travel in the ambulance to the hospital, the entire time he sits there and pleads with Jim to stop his stupid fucking game and just get up. He threatens the paramedics, telling them that if they tell the truth Sebastian will pay them far more than whatever Jim has offered him. 

It takes until he’s contacted about the body that it dawns on Sebastian. 

Jim is dead.

The funeral is small, tasteful. It’s a giant fuck you to Jim who would have wanted no expense spared. 

It doesn’t matter. What’s Jim going to do about it anyway? 

Sebastian leans against the tombstone and pulls his coat around him tighter to try and block out the winter chill. There’s a dusting of snow now, and it’ll soon get too cold to spend much time outside. Sebastian will stay anyway, he needs to look after Jim. 

“Sweet dreams, Boss.”


	5. "I promise you your head is the only thing spinning right now."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somebody tries to take Jim out. They have the perfect plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: brain damage

When they try to kill Moriarty, they account for everything. They plan out in detail every little thing that could go wrong, every little moment leading up to his death. They’re careful in picking the method, careful in when and where they set the meeting, they’re even careful in the type of work they’re offering Moriarty to lure him out. Not so exciting that he’ll bring his bodyguard with him, but exciting enough that he’ll still come out of the shadows himself to deal with it. 

It should be the perfect way to kill such an untouchable man. It even lets them pretend that they didn’t know what was happening. 

Carbon Monoxide poisoning. Moriarty won’t even know what’s happening to him. 

They account for everything. Everything except an overprotective bodyguard who won’t let his boss go in alone. 

Moriarty turns up alone, but with an ear-piece. Sebastian is up on the roof of a nearby window looking out for trouble. Jim’s already made fun of him at least a dozen times for it, but Sebastian prefers to be safe than sorry. There’s nothing wrong with a little precaution, especially on the jobs that seem the tamest. Letting your guard down just because you underestimate an enemy is a surefire way to get killed, and as far as Sebastian is concerned, everybody is Jim’s enemy until they can prove unequivocally that they aren’t. 

In the end, it’s the only thing that keeps Jim alive. 

He saunters into the building for the meeting at the same time that he gets a text from the client that they’re running late. Jim scoffs and takes a seat, reading the message out loud so that Sebastian will hear it too and know what to expect. Jim doesn’t want his sniper shooting the client because he sees somebody entering the building when they shouldn’t be. 

“You’d think that people would hear about my reputation and know better,” Jim mutters to himself- to Sebastian, it doesn’t matter, “I even wore my nice tie pin.” 

In his ear, Sebastian chuckles lightly. “I can shoot them a little if you like. Maybe in the foot?” Jim hums, disapproving, and Sebastian’s laughter fills his ear again. 

“I’ll take that as a no, boss. Pity, you know I like picking off easy game.” 

When Jim begins to feel light-headed, he thinks nothing of it. He checks his watch, as he drums his fingers against the table. It’s almost lunch, it makes sense that he’d be a little light-headed, he skipped dinner last night to work, and his breakfast was a coffee. He’ll have to eat something when he gets out. Of course, the client has to show up first. 

“God I feel dizzy. Feels like the whole room is spinning” He grumbles. 

“I promise you your head is the only thing spinning right now. Have you eaten today?” Sebastian asks, waiting for a beat for some sound to tell him what he already knows. “Didn’t think so. We’ll grab a bite after, yeah? I swear I’m going to snitch to your doctor. She won’t take any of that.” 

“Prat.” Jim grumbles. 

“Love you too.” 

When the stomach pain begins, Jim can’t quite understand why. He feels disoriented, can’t breathe quite right, and he feels so tired. He just wants to put his head on the table and go to sleep. 

“Bash.” He mumbles quietly. “Somethings wrong.” 

It’s all Sebastian has to hear to put his gun down and run. He tells Jim’s other man to get the car around to the front as he bolts down the stairs to try and get across the road to Jim. 

“Jim? What’s going on? Can you tell me where in the building you’re in?” 

“Ground floor.” Jim can’t quite remember what he’s supposed to be doing, “I can’t- I can’t breathe in here.” 

Sebastian bursts out onto the street, a taxi almost takes him out on the street as he crosses. It takes everything in him not to pull a gun on the man for it. 

“I’m almost there Jim, just hold on.” 

This time, there isn’t a response. 

When Sebastian finally finds the right room, Jim is slumped over in his chair. There’s nothing to suggest that he’s been attacked, or that any harm has come to him, but he’s unconscious, and Sebastian already knows that this has to have something to do with the client that didn’t show up. He carries Jim from the room, and it’s only seconds later that a fire alarm in the corridor sounds. Sebastian frowns at that but keeps moving, he needs to get Jim to safety. 

It’s as they reach the street, people evacuating the building that Sebastian realises what it was. 

It wasn’t a fire alarm. It was a carbon monoxide detector. 

There’s not enough time to wait for an ambulance, he loads Jim into the car and speeds towards the hospital. 

Sebastian’s hunch turns out to be right. They put Jim straight in, doctors run about as they try to help him and Sebastian is exiled to the waiting room. He paces there, on his phone the entire time. The people who did this to Jim will pay, just because Moriarty is currently out of the picture, doesn’t mean there aren’t others who can act on his behalf. 

By the time Sebastian’s allowed to go in and see him, Jim’s already a different person. 

The doctor explains to Sebastian what’s happened, but it all sounds muffled and far away. Nothing really makes it through at first, and when it does it feels like a dream. The doctor tells him that they need to run more tests, but it looks like Jim has suffered at least some amount of impairment. They have no idea of just how bad it is though. Of just how much damage has been done. 

His furious little genius looks up at Sebastian with a blank, tired expression. 

“He’s lost some of his sight.” The doctor says. It’s the first thing that rings through with any clarity. “It’s, unfortunately, a possibility with this sort of thing. He’s lucky you got him out when he did.” 

From the bed, Jim touches his ear and mumbles something too quite for either of them to hear in the hospital. 

“He keeps touching his ear, but as far as we can tell, there’s nothing wrong with it.” The doctor explains. Sebastian watches as Jim does it again, mirrors the action for a moment before he realises what he’s doing. 

He’s reaching for the earpiece that’s no longer there. He’s trying to reach out to Sebastian. 

Sebastian is by his side in a second, taking his hand gently, pressing chapped lips to it. 

“I’m here Jim, don’t worry.” He tells him. 

“Get me out,” Jim mutters quietly, it’s hard to hear him properly through the oxygen mask. “Bash, I don’t feel well.” 

“When can I take him home?” Sebastian asks the doctor. 

“We need to keep him overnight at least, get his Carbon Monoxide levels back down. And run a few tests, make sure that he’s alright, make sure we know the extent of the damage caused.” It isn’t the answer that Sebastian wants to hear, but he can’t just pull Jim out and take him home either. He nods, understanding, and shifts closer to Jim. 

“Can I stay with him?” 

“I’ll let you stay as long as somebody doesn’t tell you to leave.” He’s told. It’s good enough for Sebastian. 

When he does take Jim home there’s an adjustment period for both of them. Jim is no longer able to work, and Sebastian is quickly overloaded trying to run the business and take care of Jim all at once. The man can still look after himself, but it’s slow going, and there are moments of forgetfulness that make Sebastian worry that something might happen to Jim if he’s not there. He can’t trust anybody else with him either, and though he knows he doesn’t have to baby Jim, the fear that grips him any time he leaves the house is enough to have him coddle the man every second he’s in the same room as him. 

Jim grows to resent him, Sebastian knows it. If he could still do it, he’d have Sebastian killed for trapping him in the house. 

But Sebastian promised Jim long ago that he’d protect him no matter the cost, and he’s always been a man of his word.


	6. "Oh God, is that blood?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: character death, suicidal thoughts

It’s the end of a long day, and both Sebastian and Jim just want to unwind. They’ve been shot at, almost blown up, and nearly arrested twice. As far as days go, they both agreed in the car that it was certainly one of their worse ones. Now sat at the bar of a local pub, they enjoy a pint together as the telly plays the news, a concerned anchor talking about the rise in crime through London, sparked by the most recent event, where four people were shot to death, and several were injured. 

Those injured will be dead by night, Jim isn’t one for loose ends. They won’t even get to wake up to tell their stories. 

Somebody harps on in an interview about what they saw, and then some expert comes on and starts rattling off crime statistics. Sebastian has a bit of a laugh at the man's stern expression, and Jim pokes fun at what anybody who comes on the screen is wearing. 

All in all, a good end to a rather chaotic day. 

That is until some idiot passing by exclaims loud enough for the whole damn bar to hear. 

“Oh God, is that blood?” 

It is indeed blood, and Jim groans, looking down to the puddle that’s seeped through his sleeve and begun to drip down onto the floor. Confused at first, Sebastian checks himself for blood, assuming that they’re talking about him. 

“Didn’t think I got shot.” He mutters quietly, unlike the bloke who is carrying on near them. 

“No Tiger, they’re talking about me.” 

Sebastian looks down then, the sound that comes out of his mouth is somewhere between confused and concerned as he reaches out instinctively to Jim. He’d wondered why the man had chosen to leave his jacket buttoned up, he supposes now he knows just why. 

“Jim, what the hell happened?” Sebastian stands up, flicking open the button on Jim’s jacket while at the same time putting himself between Jim and the rest of the pub. Jim slaps Sebastian’s hand away as he tries to take a peak, tsking at the man. 

“You’re not going to like what you see, Sebastian.” He tells him. 

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” Sebastian snaps back, voice still low and private. “Jim, what the fuck?” 

“Bit of shrapnel from the blast.” Jim supplies. “It’s in tight, well, I thought it was, suppose there’s a leak somewhere.” 

“How the hell are you making jokes right now?” Sebastian hisses as he tries to peel Jim’s jacket back again. Once again, Jim slaps his hand away. Behind the bar, the bartender has vanished to the other end, calling for an ambulance no doubt. 

“I ran the numbers, it doesn’t look good for me.” Jim offers, “jostled it about too much while we were trying to get away.” 

“What so you’re just giving up?” Sebastian won’t hear it. “Jim, listen to yourself, we’ve got to get you to a hospital dammit.” 

“If I was giving up, I’d just lay down on the floor and die.” 

“Then what’s this?” 

“Celebration,” Jim shrugs. “Had a good run, wanted to go out at least a little on my own terms.” 

“That’s giving up, Jim,” Sebastian tells him. “Don’t you dare give up. A piece of- what- metal going to kill you?” 

“I know it’s not exactly the way I envisioned it, but can’t account for bad luck.” 

Sebastian can’t handle it, he can’t just sit there and listen to Jim admit defeat. There’s got to be a way to save him. 

“You try and take me to a hospital and I’ll pull it out,” Jim warns him. It’s as if he can read Sebastian’s mind as if he knows exactly what Sebastian will do. “I’ll pull it out and paint the whole pub red.” 

“Why?” Sebastian swallows thickly and repeats the question. “Why, Jim?” 

“Truth be told I’ve been looking for a way out for a while. This just saves me the effort of doing it myself.” 

Jim’s admission shocks Sebastian silent. 

Jim gives Sebastian a sad, knowing look. 

“It’s alright, Bash. Nothing you could have done to prevent it.” 

Sebastian can feel the walls of the pub closing in around him, four neat little walls like it’s his own personal coffin. 

Jim’s dead within the hour. They count him amongst the victims of the explosion. Sebastian does his best to move on but he feels numb inside. An empty bed no longer brings him a restful nights sleep. The quiet tune of the BeeGee’s through the apartment just makes him feel sick. 

‘Stayin’ alive, Stayin’ alive.’ 

That’s the final problem, isn’t it? Staying alive?


	7. "I'll do this if it kills me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's father is dead. He can never hurt him agian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: violence, mentions of abuse, religious trauma

Jim watches the flights as they come up. As he scans each one his fingers drum rapidly against his leg. Beside him, Sebastian watches Jim instead, not missing how tight the man holds himself, how his lips turn downward as he tries to hide behind a stoic face. 

They’re going to Ireland. It’ll be the first time Jim’s gone back since he left nearly three decades ago. 

His father died a week ago. He’s in the ground now which means he can’t ever hurt Jim again. 

Jim fed Sebastian some line about there potentially being work out in Dublin that would be worth the trip out. Sebastian knows it’s just a lie the man has made up so that they have a reason to go to Ireland at all. There’s always been work in Dublin, Jim’s turned it down every single time. It doesn’t matter how high the numbers go, Jim’s always refused anything to do with his homeland. 

When they get there, Sebastian is sure that Jim will fake a phone call, say that the meeting has been cancelled, that the client pulled out last minute. Then he’ll make up some other excuse to travel out to the small village he grew up in. What happens from there Sebastian can’t predict, but what he can do is look after the man he loves. 

He’ll be by Jim’s side no matter what, he’ll even fake that he had no idea about the whole thing if it’ll help Jim face Ireland a little better. 

Truth be told though, even if he hadn’t have seen the report on Jim’s computer, Sebastian would have assumed the trip had something to do with Jim’s family. The man turned down an annual take of near seven million pounds because he didn’t want to go to Ireland, he never had any intention of coming back. 

Sebastian just hopes that whatever happens doesn’t break Jim too bad. 

“Why is it that my flight is always delayed?” Jim hisses from beside him. Sebastian shrugs. 

“Maybe they know you’re a criminal mastermind and don’t want you to flee the country?” 

“Like I’d flee to fucking Ireland if I was going to leave.” There’s venom in Jim’s voice, but there’s also fear. Sebastian doesn’t comment on it. 

“Just means we can get a bite to eat before we take off. I know you skipped breakfast. Come on, I’ll buy you something sweet from one of the cafes.” 

They sit down to wait for their flight, though it’s hard to get Jim to eat any more than a few bites. He’s nervous, not that Sebastian blames him for that, and barely even touches his coffee, something that Sebastian usually would have to pry from his over-caffeinated fingers. 

“Let’s go for a smoke,” Jim says suddenly. 

“You don’t smoke,” Sebastian replies. 

“You smoke and I’ll stand next to you. Come on, get up.” 

Sebastian smokes four cigarettes before Jim’s calm enough to go back inside. He leans in close, setting his head against Sebastian’s jacket. He might think it sweet if he wasn’t sure that Jim’s just doing it to smell the smoke against his skin. 

Their flight doesn’t take long at all, but Jim still looks green around the gills all the same. He doesn’t throw up to his credit, but it’s a close thing. 

As predicted, he fakes a call just as they reach their hotel. 

“The jobs been called off.” He tells Sebastian. Sebastian nods and scowls the appropriate amount. 

“Fuckers. Ought to burn down their homes.” He says. There’s appreciative relief on Jim’s face when he says it. 

The excuse to head out to Jim’s home town is weak, but Sebastian takes the bait for him all the same. Neither of them mention why Jim actually wants to go out there, even as Sebastian pulls up in front of an old worn church that looks like it hasn’t changed at all since the fifties. 

“Are you sure you want to go in there?” Sebastian asks. It’s the only time he will. He knows that Jim won’t allow himself to back out, even if he’d be better for it, but Sebastian can be there to allow him that escape if he so chooses to take it. 

“I’ll do this if it kills me,” Jim replies determined. “I won’t have come all this way for nothing. 

Jim finds the sledgehammer in the shed of the church. It’s full of tools all neatly lined up and well cared for, but old and obviously worn. They’re likely some of the same tools that were there when Jim was a boy. Some of the same tools his father would have borrowed to build a strong reinforced door down into the basement. One strong enough to keep an unruly boy trapped inside. Jim wants to burn the whole shed to the ground, but he has something to attend to first. 

Sebastian watches him with a steady gaze but says nothing as Jim takes the sledgehammer out and heads back towards the graveyard. He keeps his distance, several meters behind Jim to give him some space. 

When Jim reaches his father's headstone he draws back the sledgehammer and swings. He’s not a strong man, not physically at least, and so the headstone doesn’t break with only one hit, but that doesn’t deter Jim. He brings it up over his head instead, swinging down against the top of the gravestone, chipping a fist-sized chunk off the corner. 

“Stop! What are you doing?” The local priest runs out from the church to try and stop Jim. Before he can reach him though, Sebastian steps into his path and blocks him. 

“Take another step and they’ll be digging you a hole, Pastor.” He warns. 

“You can’t do this!” The man shouts, “how can you let him destroy a man’s grave like that?” 

Sebastian shrugs and looks back over to Jim. 

“Don’t think there’s a man buried in that hole, Pastor.” 

Jim strikes the headstone again and again. He has no plans of stopping until either the whole thing is in tiny little pieces, or he can’t physically swing the sledgehammer any longer. 

It’s a small village though, and eventually, somebody else comes to intervene. 

“What are you doing to my husbands grave?” A woman shouts as she runs towards them. She’s got grey hair and has seen better days, and looks barely like the woman Jim remembers to be his mother. He turns to her with hate-filled eyes, as Sebastian tries to work out the best way to stop her from also approaching Jim. He needn’t worry though. The second the woman locks eyes with Jim she stops dead in her tracks. 

“James?” She asks confused. 

“It’s Jim.” Jim corrects her venomously. “It’s Jim, it’s always been Jim I must have told you that a hundred times!” 

There isn’t an ounce of love in his mother's eyes, just confusion that slowly folds into resentment. She doesn’t want him here just as much as he doesn’t want to be anywhere near Ireland. 

“If you try and stop me,” he says before she has the chance to say anything, “I’ll kill you.”

Sebastian doesn’t doubt that for a second. Jim’s armed, and not just with the sledgehammer. It’s a small little village, quiet, not many people at all. If need be, they could get rid of them all. Burn the whole damn place to the ground and call it condemned land. It would become some freak horrific event that nobody could ever really solve. Just another notch on Moriarty’s belt. 

Jim turns back around and lets out a long, pained shout as he strikes the headstone again. It cracks down the middle, Jim kicks one half to send it to the ground. 

“You devil!” His mother shouts, “you foul little boy! You bastard! Still, a possessed rotten child you are!” 

“I am not POSSESSED!” Jim shouts. He turns back to her red-faced and furious. 

Possessed, she screams, possessed. It was always that he was possessed and not that he was just a boy trapped with an abusive father and negligent mother. Pin him down and drown out that unholy devil inside of him. Bag him and throw him away. 

Possessed, his mother screams at him. 

If Jim Moriarty was ever human at all, that part of him was plucked from a scared little body all bony and unwell, by parents who never wanted him in the first place. If Jim Moriarty was ever human at all, the monster in him only grew so powerful because he was born to people who also couldn’t love. 

He decides then that she has to die too. Takes his sledgehammer and advances on her. 

“Kill them all.” he tells Sebastian, “the devil has arrived in their homes once more, and this time he’s big enough to fight back.” 

The village is quiet when they get back into their car. Jim covered in blood and gore wipes his face clean on his shift as he changes in the back seat. Sebastian keeps quiet as he drives them away. 

The devil’s had his revenge, it’s time to take him home.


End file.
